The Seamstress and The Tsundere
by WritesWithQuill
Summary: A series of support conversations between Oboro and Selena.
1. C-Support

_Disclaimer:_ _Still don't own any rights to Fire Emblem in any way shape or form, only the story here is mine._

 _This was a request from Windninja1000 on my last fanfic, A Lady's Man and Laslow. Though I will be getting around to writing the other request on that fic - Odin and Arthur - I'm still struggling for ideas for it and it will be coming a ways in the future due to having another project due to start soon (any Octopath Traveler fans, watch this space). I'll get around to writing it at some point, but it is going to take a while - although, if you have any topics or ideas for it, let me know and I can try getting on it sooner. Oh, and I'm not accepting requests at the moment due to the fact that I'm focusing my attention on this new project - sorry about that._

 _Anyway, these supports can stand as the typical C-A conversations with a story that essentially ends there, but there is an S support afterwards if people want to read that - if you're not comfortable with that, no worries, you don't need to read it to fully appreciate the story, though it does help. There are no spoilers for any of the Fates games and only minimal for Awakening - none that will ruin the game for you if you've not played it._

 _So, like, favourite, review, find me on Twitter, whatever, just remember that feedback of any kind can make me improve in the future and, really, just makes me happy as I know people are actually reading this._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _The Seamstress and The Tsundere_

 _C-Support_

It just wasn't _fair_!

Selena dug her fingers into her bunches in frustration as she looked down at the fabric on her desk and the small sewing kit set beside it. No matter how hard she tried, this fabric just would not stay still enough for her to mend it properly. And even if she _was_ able to sew up the tear, the colours of thread she had available wouldn't quite match enough to make it invisible. The red head was _this_ close to throwing the thing on her floor before realising that that would only damage it more. Instead, she unscrunched her fingers in her hair and gently began spreading the fabric out to see the tear better again.

Some days she truly thought the Gods hated her; a messy, ladder-esque tear about the length of her forefinger and twice the width… On her Ylissean yukata no less!

Due to the situation surrounding their arrival in Nohr, they hadn't had any time to say goodbye to their friends of family, and certainly no time to grab mementoes. But, Laslow being Laslow, had managed to buy them enough time to grab just an armful of stuff. Compared to her and Odin's armfuls, she'd thought he'd brought everything he'd ever owned. Nowadays, she often wished she'd brought more with her too, but it wasn't like she could change that now.

Two pictures, her sword and hairbrush, plus the ring on her finger were a must, but deciding on what clothes to bring would have been an impossibility if she didn't have a time limit. Since her mercenary uniform had been converted into a Nohrian one (and most of her clothes were too heavy to carry or simply the product of a mindless shopping spree) there was only one item left with any real significance to her, one she'd grabbed without a second glance in her wardrobe.

And now she'd gone and ripped it in moving it from her quarters in Nohr to those in the Astral Realm.

Selena liked to think that there was nothing too challenging for her to overcome. She'd once beaten her mother – a lance user – in a sparring session with her sword for Gods' sake! But this? Well, it wasn't like her mother was that good of a sewer, and her Aunt Cherche had never taught her how to sew this kind of fabric before...

It was on both of them for not showing her how to do it before, not her for ripping the yukata, or the yukata itself for being made out of a difficult fabric.

Sighing, Selena pushed herself away from her desk and looked out the window into the Astral Courtyard. Everyone had their only little space here in Lord Corrin's Astral Realm, and all of them were within sight of the Prince's treehouse – where a lot of people liked to congregate during down days.

From her window, she could see Kaden napping in the shade of the great tree; Felicia was crossing from the kitchen with Jakob, both of them with a tray of food and drink for their Lord; and, was that Lady Camilla on her way to the hot springs with Charlotte? Selena couldn't be sure on that last one, but if it was, her liege had some nerve walking around without a retainer.

It was safe to say she was feeling peevish. She was halfway turned back to the yukata on her desk, when movement from the arena caught her eye.

Lord Takumi was laughing – a rare sight – as he left the arena, his bow in one hand, the door held open with the other. Laughing as well, a bright blush on her cheeks, Oboro followed after him, her naginata in hand.

Selena wasn't ashamed to admit that she knew very little about either of them; if she was going back to Ylisse after all this was said and done, it was in her interest to get to know as few people as possible to make the goodbyes a little easier. But, she'd heard enough chatter from her liege and Laslow (who was incapable of _not_ trying to get to know everyone) to have a rough idea of what the Hoshidan Prince and his retainer were like.

Just like that, a plan formed in her head and she was out the door before she'd even remembered what Laslow had said about Oboro's hate of Nohrians. _Well,_ she thought _, I'm not actually a Nohrian and I'm only asking for a little favour. If I offer to pay, surely she'll have no reason to say no._

She was halfway to them by the time her doubts caught up with her and by that point she'd look more stupid just turning around and going back to her quarters without asking. Selena would risk her life before she'd risk looking stupid.

"Excuse me, Prince Takumi? Lady Oboro?" Selena curtsied, batting her eyelashes. A little flattery couldn't hurt.

Not that it had any effect on the lancer, whose face turned nightmarish immediately as she levelled her naginata at Selena's chest. "What do you want, Nohrian?"

"Easy, Oboro," Takumi put a calming hand on her shoulder, though his eyes were also watching Selena angrily. "I doubt Lady Camilla would like you attacking her retainer."

Oboro sighed and put her naginata behind her back, her angry face not changing. "As you say, Lord Takumi."

"What do you want, Selena?" Takumi asked curtly, standing somewhat protectively between her and Oboro, though whom he was trying to protect with that stance was very questionable.

Already frustrated with how these two were treating her, Selena stood tall and kept her tone polite. "I was wondering if I could have a moment to talk to Oboro?"

"Why would I spare a moment to talk to Nohrian Scum like you?" Oboro's face twisted even more, evidently an attempt to scare her off. Instead, it just made her miss home.

For a moment Takumi looked like he was going to agree with his retainer and yell at Selena for even asking such a thing, however, an almighty crash brought the entire conversation to a standstill. They all turned to see Felicia in a pile of food stuffs meant for her liege, Jakob stood next to her with a face like thunder; a little way around the bottom of Corrin's tree, Kaden stood with his tail bushed up before realising what had happened and curling back up.

"For the love of…" Takumi sighed and rushed off to help Felicia, leaving the two girls alone.

They both hesitated: Selena still wanted to ask Oboro for a favour whilst she simply wanted to leave and help her liege. Swaying slightly, Oboro took a step in the direction of the commotion, only for Selena to grab her arm and stop her.

"Touch me again and I'll rearrange your kneecaps." She snapped as Selena took her hand back and watched the point of her naginata closely.

"Sheesh, okay!" She sighed in return, her arms crossing over her chest. "I just wanted to ask for your help, but if you're going to be like that…"

"Why would I ever want to help Nohrian Scum like you?" Oboro continued to sneer.

 _Come up with another slur, why don't'cha!_ "Uh, because I was going to pay you for your services! Quite well!" It's often safe to assume that when Selena gets angry the conversation won't go much further, but she was determined to get what she wanted this time, angrily or otherwise.

"What services of mine could you possibly need?" An aggressive grin bloomed on her features. "Want me to teach you and your Nohrian friends compassion? How not to kill everyone on sight?"

 _I'M NOT EVEN FROM NOHR!_ Her thoughts screamed as she gritted her teeth; that last insinuation hitting a little too close to the bone. "No! Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd be willing to look at a tear I have in one of my clothes since I heard you were the best seamstress in the army! Plus, you always dress so good that I thought maybe you'd be able to help! But if you're going to be like that-!"

They both stood glaring at each other for a moment before the words behind Selena's shouting actually registered. Then Oboro blinked and looked at her closely, like a normal human being; meanwhile, the red head started to blush uncontrollably as she realised she'd been angry complimenting.

"Never _mind_!" Selena shouted, her voice breaking as she turned back in the direction of her quarters, planning on running away and hiding so well no one would ever see her again.

"Wait, Selena!" Oboro chased after her, making the mercenary stop and look at her again, her face almost as bright as her hair. Taking far less effort than Selena thought it would, the hateful lancer flashed her an adorable little smile, a slight giggle coming with it. "You think I'm stylish?"

Blushing even more, Selena darted off, her bunches flying behind her.

Closing the door behind her with Oboro a few feet away, still giggling and asking for her to stop, Selena sighed in frustration. That had been one massive mistake after another and she hadn't even gotten anything out of it.

"Selena!" Oboro shouted as she knocked on her door. "Come on, I was only teasing!"

Glaring angrily at the world in general, she made her way back to her desk, intending to flop into her chair in frustration. Then she saw the yukata on her desk - its tear all too clear - and growled at it.

"You can go away as well." Muttered she, yanking it off her desk and throwing it into her over-crowded wardrobe. The whole while, Oboro continued to knock on the door.

"Selena, please! I'm curious now! I'll help you for free, to make up for the teasing?"

' _Free'_ was one of Selena's favourite words. Swallowing her pride and anger, she opened the door a crack, giving view to the trying-not-to-giggle lancer.

"We will never speak of what happened earlier again." Said she, no room for argument in her tone.

"Agreed."

A hesitant moment passed before Selena opened her door and let the quizzical Hoshidan in. Aside from her Lady, Beruka and the Ylissean boys, Selena had never let anyone into her quarters, certainly no one from the other side of the army. As such, she saw her room anew: her various knickknacks and impulse buys; the general messy state that the whole room was in, especially the state of her wardrobe.

"I wasn't expecting company…" She mumbled lamely.

Not that the mess even seemed to register on Oboro. Instead, the girl was looking intently at the wardrobe and the various garments within – Nohrian dresses right next to Hoshidan kimonos, even a few pairs of dresses that she'd unsuccessfully altered to look Ylissean. She took all of them in at a glance, her brain desperately trying to process all the conflicting styles and fabrics.

"And I thought Nohrians had no sense of style…" Oboro muttered as she wondered over to get a closer look.

"Don't judge us all based on how the army dresses," Selena replied, her arms once again crossed, still feeling no need to correct the girl on her true home. "If I did that, I'd say that Hoshidans have no sense of style either."

"I suppose you're right. But, Selena, you've got so many different dresses here!" She pulled out one of the dresses that she'd tried to make Ylissean – something much easier said than done when working with the puffy dresses of Nohr – a rather shapeless, straight shift dress that she realised now must have looked exotic to a Hoshidan. "Where did you get this one? What style is it based on?"

"Uh… I made that one myself… It's not that great." She snatched it back and hid it away, pulling the yukata out in substitution. If she thought that was exotic… "This is the one I need sewing up."

Oboro's eyes lit up as she looked at the garment. Taking it gently from the mercenary, she looked at it like it was the rarest metal. Slowly, she looked it over, trying to gather some sort of indication of where it was from, who could have made such an exquisite piece, how such a material could have been stitched so delicately.

Then she came to the tear.

Looking that over closely, she muttered a few things under her breath about the strength and movement of the fabric and what kind of stitch she could use before nodding to herself and looking over at the nervous Selena.

"I've never seen any dress like this before. Where's it from? Does it have a name?"

Hesitating on the truth for a moment, Selena answered, "It was a going away present from a family friend before I joined the royal service. It's called a yukata."

"I see." Oboro said, definitely seeing more than she let on. "Well, it might take some time and it's certainly something I've never worked with before, but I think I can mend it."

"Really?" All her hostility melted away, leaving just gratitude and desire for her yukata to be mended. "You can fix it?"

"I think so…" Oboro frowned as she looked at it again, standing up and making for the door. "It'll take some time, but I'll see what I can do."

Just as she opened the door to leave, yukata over one arm and naginata in the other hand, she turned back and smiled at the Nohrian retainer. "I take back what I said about doing it for free though, this'll cost you."


	2. B-Support

_Just a quick note in reply to some reviews last week: I hadn't realised that Selena's yukata had been canonically described as similar in style to Hoshidan clothes while writing this fic. I thought I'd checked all the pertinent supports beforehand but I'm sorry to say that I'd missed some, so I hope you can forgive this little inconsistency. The yukata is only really relevant to the plot of this fic for these first two chapters anyway, so it isn't too big of a deal, but my apologies regardless. Also, this will be updated at around lunchtime (UK time) on Fridays - forgot to mention that last week._

 _Anyway, on with the B-Support, enjoy!_

* * *

 _The Seamstress and The Tsundere_

 _B-Support_

Although she'd certainly never admit it to the Nohrian, this last week had pushed Oboro's sewing ability to the limit.

First, the fabric had been too delicate for her needles, then it had been too slippery and mobile, making her stitches messy and far too visible for a perfectionist like Selena; _then_ she'd run out of thread and couldn't find a colour that matched! Plus, the war against Garon, her duties to Lord Takumi and all that were still _technically_ a priority. Not that that stopped her from thinking about the yukata at every waking moment.

To begin with, she only thought about how she was going to mend it, but then her thoughts drifted to questions about the garment. Where had this style originated, what kind of material was it made from, who in Nohr could have possibly owned something so beautiful and still given it away to Selena?

However, as she sat looking at her work a week later, she had to admit that she'd done a pretty good job, all things considered. Now came the ultimate test: would Selena be happy with it?

Folding the garment carefully over her arm, Oboro left her quarters in search of Selena.

* * *

After knocking on her door several times with no response, Oboro gave up and scanned the rest of the Astral Realm. Logic dictated that she continue knocking on doors on the Nohrian side of the Realm, or that she find Lady Camilla and ask her if she knew where her retainer was; but the Gods knew she'd rather never find Selena than talk to more Nohrians than necessary. After she dismissed that idea, Oboro decided that her only other easy option was to ask Lord Corrin if he knew where Selena might be.

While crossing the courtyard (yukata still over her arm) to Lord Corrin's treehouse, Oboro caught sight of Princess Camilla and Beruka leaving the arena, clearly exhausted. At the sight of the two Nohrians, Oboro instinctively scrunched her face up before even thinking about asking them where Selena was. Thankfully, she didn't have to ask.

"Care to soothe your muscles in the hot springs with me, my sweet Beruka?" Lady Camilla asked Beruka a little loudly – loud enough for Oboro to hear her from near Corrin's treehouse anyway.

"If you insist, my liege," Beruka responded quieter, not that it stopped Oboro from eavesdropping. "But perhaps we should wait for Selena to join us?"

"We might be waiting hours for her, my dear. You know how much she values her training." The princess sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if she values her training over me…"

"Of course not, Lady Camilla!" Her retainer exclaimed, as much as Beruka could exclaim. How the conversation continued from there, Oboro couldn't say – she was too busy rushing to the arena.

* * *

Watching Selena train was quite the sight.

Admittedly, before last week Oboro had paid the girl no attention. She'd thought her just another Nohrian sellsword, another sword user in army already packed with them. Another sword user who'd fall to her lance techniques. But as she watched Selena practice from the entrance, she realised just how wrong she'd been…

Parries designed specifically to block a lance, flicks of the sword so quick, delicate and deadly that she could only gape. Her movement with the sword was almost like a dance, a deadly, deadly dance. And if you weren't watching carefully, you'd lose the sword behind her flying bunches, never to see the hit coming. There were elements of her fighting style that she recognised as Nohrian and on occasion some that she recognised as Hoshidan, but the overarching stance and style was as foreign as the garment over her arm.

As she watched her tear the training dummy to pieces without even so much as sweating (surprising Oboro further considering the state of Camilla and Beruka), Oboro realised something even more interesting about the mercenary's swordplay: the Nohrian and Hoshidan elements she thought she saw weren't actually there. Well, they were technically, but they were more a cover up, a way of saying 'look over here!' before she performed an infinitely more deadly and foreign technique.

Selena's whole fighting ability was an elaborate act, one designed to keep the victim in a false sense of security. One designed around Selena's survival rather than the opposition's lack of.

It should've terrified Oboro to witness someone she stood no chance fighting against, someone so far removed from everything she'd come to expect of Nohrians. The lancer should have been shaken to her core to see Selena so inexhaustible. Instead she was intrigued. Instead she only saw more evidence that the girl wasn't actually from around here.

Finally, Selena came to a panting stop, sword loose in her hand as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and searched the area for her canteen. In her search, her eyes landed on the lancer in the doorway, watching her dumbfounded.

She took a swig of her canteen, maintaining eye contact with Oboro before asking, "What?"

"Ah…" Oboro hesitated, not sure what might set the mercenary off. "Nothing…"

"Nothing?" There was already an edge in her voice. "What's that face for then? And how long have you been watching me?"

"Not long, I swear! I just… got caught up in your movements." Oboro blushed. "You're a formidable fighter."

"Hmph." Selena put the canteen back down and turned back to the dummies. "I'm far from perfect. I must get better-hrk-too keep Princess Camilla-hargh!-from harm!"

Selena viciously attacked the dummies, her movements slowing as she tired. Oboro watched in awe; she would've stopped a long time ago.

"Perhaps you'd like to take a break for a moment-"

"There's no time for breaks on the battlefield! Take a moment to catch your breath and-harr!-everyone you ever…" Selena stopped, winded and panting with her hands on her knees, sword still tight in her grasp. With her bunches covering her face, she couldn't be sure, but Oboro was certain there'd been a threat of tears in Selena's eyes.

"Selena. Stop." Oboro said forcefully, taking a step towards her, planning on putting her hands on her shoulders to force her back up.

But she was back to it after only a moment more of panting. "No. I… must improve…"

"Selena!" She shouted at her, forcing her to look in her direction and at the yukata in her hands. "Look!"

"My yukata..."

"I finished sewing it up this morning," she handed it over to the red-head who almost hungrily looked it over. "What do you think?"

"This is incredible, Oboro…" Selena held up the torn sleeve to the light, her fingers probing it gently and looking at the almost invisible fixing stitch. "To do this despite the fact that you've never worked with this style or fabric before…"

"It was nothing." The lancer smiled as she lied, trying not to think about all the new pinpricks in her fingers.

"You're an incr-" She shook her head, blushing as she tried not to compliment the girl again. "How much do I owe you?"

"Actually…" Oboro approached the question carefully, trying not to let the fact that Selena had almost complemented her get to her head. "I wanted to ask for something else in return for fixing that for you."

"Oh?" Selena asked carefully, a slightly warning tone to her voice that Oboro ignored.

"I want you to tell me the truth. You're no more from Nohr than I am – both your clothes and fighting style tell of a land far from here. So tell me, where are you from and what's your intention here?"

During the course of her accusation, Oboro's face had turned into a snarl, one that stayed as Selena drew herself up in anger at the accusation. Then she looked down at the yukata over her arm and sighed, seeming to physically deflate as she did.

"What I tell you next stays between the two of us." She said quietly, somewhat defeated. "If Odin or Laslow find out I'm telling you this they'll make my life a living hell – and neither of us want that."

"Okay…"

"I'm from a realm far from here, you won't find it any history books nor any maps. My fighting style originates from there and the two wars I took part in before this one; my fashion sense is also from there and the clothes I tried to make myself all come from those styles." She raised her sword and pointed it threatingly at the lancer. "You tell no one of this conversation, not even Lady Camilla, or I make you regret ever talking to me."

 _You were the one who talked to me first…_ Oboro thought as she carefully nodded, her eyes on the sword pointed towards her and its strange style. "This swords from your home realm, isn't it?"

"What did I just say, Oboro?" Selena took a step forward, sword still pointing at the Hoshidan.

"Okay! Okay!" Putting her hands up in surrender, Oboro nodded again.

"Good." She sheathed the sword at her belt.

"If I can make one more request?"

"I'm not telling you anymore about my homeland."

"That's not what I was going to ask," said she, though she was desperate to know more, especially about the fashion. "I was going to ask if I could spar with you at some point?"

"So you can learn more about my homeland's fighting style?" Selena tilted her head to the side in amused anger.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in learning more about your homeland…" Oboro left her sentence hanging.

For a moment, Selena stood in thought, her gaze flicking between Oboro and the mended yukata on her arm. "Alright. I'll spar with you."

Oboro beamed, walking over to the wall to grab a spare naginata before Selena stopped her.

"Not today. I'm already worn out, it wouldn't be a fair fight. Also, I want something in exchange."

"I just mended your yukata, what could you possibly want in exchange?" Oboro snapped before she realised who she was talking to. "I mean…"

"No, that's fair," Selena actually nodded in agreement with the other girl. "But I think you're going to like what I want. In exchange for you sparing with me, I want to ask you to make something for me: a garment from my home world. I'll cover the cost of materials and anything else you need to make it."

Oboro hesitated. As much as she wanted to know more about this mysterious world's fashion, she couldn't help but worry about the difficulty of their designs. She pulled a small sketchbook from her pocket, "Could you perhaps sketch out a design first so I know what I'm getting myself into?"

"Of course." Selena took the charcoal from Oboro and got to work. Under no circumstances would anyone call her an artist, she didn't particularly want to be one, so she hadn't practised her art skills all that much. But she'd seen the subject of her current drawing enough times to know exactly how to draw it. "There."

The lancer looked the design over, impressed by Selena's speed and skill – not that she was going to say that aloud. "You're covering the cost of fabrics and materials?"

"Yes."

"I'm in, though I might have to make a few changes..." Oboro looked at the design again and pointed at the top portion of it. "What colour is this?"

"Yellow."


	3. A-Support

_The Seamstress and The Tsundere_

 _A-Support_

Every now and again, Selena would lock herself in her quarters, draw the curtains and pull out a little box from under her bed. She'd take out the contents and arrange them carefully on her desk before taking her bunches out of their ribbons and begin to calmly brush her hair with her Ylissean brush.

She'd spend an indeterminate amount of time simply brushing and looking at the two pictures she'd brought with her, her sword in its sheath between them. Looking from one picture to the other, she'd mutter a prayer that those in the paintings were safe, that they weren't worrying about her safety or missing her _too_ much.

Laslow and Odin would have a field day if they ever found out about their tsundere friend's reminiscing moments.

Selena liked to pretend that nothing got to her, that she didn't miss those back home all that much, but that was a lot easier said than done. And, honestly, the only reason she could keep up that cold façade was because of the times she'd spend brushing her hair and thinking about her friends.

One picture was a painting of her and all the other future children together – one painted shortly after the end of the war in the past. She was on the far left of the picture, her arms crossed and a slight glare in her eyes, though she _was_ smiling, if only because both Odin and the armoured knight on either side of her were forcing her to. In reality, she was smiling because they were, because she wanted them to see her happy too.

The second picture was of her and her real parents, one she'd brought back to the past with her and kept with her wherever she went. The picture contained far too much hope considering it was of a broken family about to be torn apart by the war, a young girl with pigtails smiling like nothing could ever go wrong. Looking at the picture still caused acute pain in Selena's chest, but it also made her smile; there would soon be a small girl in peaceful Ylisse that would have a far more put together family, a small girl with no reason to ever frown.

Selena rarely looked in the mirror when she brushed her hair in these reminiscing moments. Normally, she would have basked in her reflection and how great she looked; now, she only saw someone pretending to be someone else in yet another war; someone with her mother's hair colour rather than her fathers. Though she'd come to love her past mother and forgive her actual, she still missed having that visual representation of her father in her hair.

Her thoughts and reminiscing were cut short this time by a sudden knock on her door.

"Selena? You in there?" A familiar voice called, causing Selena to sigh slightly under her breath.

"I'll be one moment, Oboro." She replied, putting her mementoes away quickly.

Over the course of the last few weeks, Selena and Oboro and spent more and more time together, getting to know one another and getting over the racism that had made the latter hesitant to strike up a friendship. Unfortunately, Selena was still hesitant to fully commit to their friendship. She didn't want to make her leaving any harder for the Hoshidan, that's why she continued to hold back whenever they were in conversation together, that's why she wouldn't admit to herself that the girl was perhaps more compatible with her than any of her friends from back home.

That's why she continued to hold her cold walls high and not let the lancer know that she actually respected her deeply and was proud of her sewing abilities to the point of admitting that they were far superior to her own.

Shoving her memento box back under her bed – leaving her sword on the desk next to her ribbons and hairbrush – Selena forced her walls up and her memories down as she opened the door.

Only to see a smiling Hoshidan holding a very recognisable outfit in her arms.

"Am I interrupting something?" Oboro asked with a slightly raised eyebrow as she looked the mercenary before her over, taking in her simple down wear and unusually down hair.

"Just… taking some time to myself." Selena shrugged, her eyes still on the garment in the other girl's arms.

"… I see." Oboro nodded, her smile wavering for a moment before she asked. "May I come in?"

Selena opened the door wider, letting her in. Immediately after entering Selena's room, Oboro set the garment down on her bed and opened her curtains, bathing the clothes with light and making Selena gasp.

"Is this-?!"

"All finished, as per your design." Oboro smiled as Selena looked at it like it was pure gold. "There were a few alterations, as you know…"

The lancer pointed at the torso of the tunic. "I couldn't find any suitable buttons, so I decided to simply embroider some as per your design. And here, with the undershirt, I wasn't sure the fabric would work with the sleeves you designed, so I made them slightly longer… Is that okay?"

"Oboro, this is… Perfect." Selena held the tunic up to the light, her eyes shining with both amazement and tears. "T-thank you."

"No problem! I was fun to work on something from another realm." She watched as the mercenary simply continued to admire it, amazed. "Well, try it on then!"

"Oh," Selena flushed slight, surprising herself. "Of course. … Don't watch me!"

"I won't!" Oboro smiled to herself as she turned her back on the other girl. She'd gotten used to Selena's ways by now and knew just how difficult saying thank you could be for her. Over the last few weeks, she'd seen her open up to her more and more to just shy of how open she was with her liege and still a fair way from how open she was with Laslow and Odin – who the lancer now knew as life long friends from the other realm simply by watching them interact.

It had been a lot of fun getting to know the girl, but now she wanted to push her just that little bit further, just over the edge of her calling Oboro her friend.

With every fibre of her being, she hoped this outfit would do just that.

"Okay, you can look now." Selena murmured, her voice slightly awed underneath the affected anger.

Oboro turned slightly where she was perching at the end of the bed to see Selena fully dressed, looking at herself in the full-length mirror by her wardrobe. Even she was impressed with her work and how it fit the mercenary.

An almost black/brown coarse undershirt was only visible on her upper arms and across her bust, the rest of her torso being covered by a thick yellow tunic that tied at the neck with a small ribbon and finished on her shoulders and in the middle of her thighs. A thick belt – thicker than any Oboro had ever fashioned – rested slightly askew on her hips. Her lower arms were protected by a flowing lemon coloured silk over a pair of brown fingerless gloves that reached her elbow and her legs were encased in intricately sewn leggings with a simple yellow stripe down their side.

As Oboro looked her up and down, Selena adjusted her gauntlets and looked down at her bare feet.

"Sorry I couldn't craft the boots you wanted; I'm no metal worker."

"No, this is…" Tears stood prominently in Selena's eyes as she held her hair in two bunches at the top of her head. "This is perfect."

"Really?" Oboro wrung her hands. "It's not too tight or-?"

"No, Oboro, this is amazing." Selena rushed over to her desk and used a pair of lose bandages from her draw to tie her hair up in slightly closer to her head than her usual bunches. She smiled at herself in the mirror, tears oh so clear in her eyes and the catch of her voice. "This is perfect. I can't… I can't thank you enough…"

All of a sudden, she broke. Tears overwhelming her as she looked at herself in the mirror and a choked sob struggling free from her throat.

"Selena!" Oboro exclaimed, rushing over and kneeling at her side. "What's wrong?!"

"Oh, Oboro… It's, it's nothing." Selena cleared her throat, unsuccessfully trying to rid herself of her tears.

"It's not nothing, what's wrong?" Oboro asked slightly more forcefully.

She shook her head before cry chuckling and turning to her seamstress. "This outfit – or a close enough approximation of it – was the mercenary outfit I wore back home, during the wars." She stood up from her desk and fished a small box out from under her bed. "What I tell and show you now does not leave this room, okay?"

"Of course." Oboro said slight apprehensively as Selena opened up the box.

"Back when I was really little, before the war truly began," she started, "I used to wear dresses all the time. Mother would dress me up in the dresses I'd pick out from this store or the other and Father would do my hair, tell me I was his little princess. Then, the war tore them away from me, left me in a nursery with all the other war orphans and none of my dresses.

"We were all messes; we'd all lost our parents, our sense of worth, all of our belongings. Then, one day, the princess watched us all crying, complaining that there was nothing we could do, and rallied us together. She gave us weapons from the royal armoury and taught us how to use a sword like her father taught her. Some of my friends chose different weapons, their parents weapons, I wanted to distance myself as far from my mother as possible, so I learnt from the princess and used the sword before us."

Both girls looked at the sheathed sword, Oboro marvelling that a young child could use that sword and that it had stayed in such good shape.

"We wore whatever fit, as we grew up – we had very little choice in the matter. But this – well, no – the mercenary uniform from back home was the only female one left, and it was an absolute miracle that it fit. As we fought, I had to also fight my repulsion at the outfit, all the outfits we were wearing. There was no time for style in war, but still… Then, things… _changed_. I was able to buy more outfits again, adorn myself in the best fashion my soldier's wage could buy. But I couldn't bring myself to get rid uniform.

"Even after peace was achieved, I still found myself wearing this uniform all the time, regardless of style. It was mine, and it had been through so much with me that… I just couldn't let it go. Until I came to Nohr, when I had to else draw endless attention to myself."

Selena fished a painting out from her box and handed it to Oboro. "This was our army; my dearest friends in the world."

Oboro looked at the photo, taking in everything the other girl had said as she did. Suddenly, as she looked at the group in the picture – the princess from the story standing out almost as obviously as the other 'Nohrian' retainers did – the lancer began to understand why Selena still kept her guard up around her, why she still refrained from calling her a friend.

It's hard to say goodbye to those you truly care for.

Oboro handed the painting back. "Selena, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She shook her head as she put the box back away under her bed. "I just wanted you to know how much you … making me this outfit… means to me."

Oboro hid a slight smile as she realised Selena was calling her a friend for the first time, as she realised all the hostility in her voice had disappeared. "I hope you know how much… the outfit… means to me too."

Selena half chuckled to herself as she smoothed it down again.

"Hey, Selena?" Oboro said after a pause.

"Yeah?"

"How about we spar, as payment for the outfit? And a way to check its mobility?" She just wanted to change the subject, to make the girl smile again, to do something with her familiar – something she did with all her friends.

"…Sounds fun." Selena smiled, strapping her sword to her belt, looking so much like she had in the picture she just showed her. Except, there was something different – apart from her hair colour and age.

Behind her eyes, that competitive desire was still there, but it was hidden behind wisdom and inner strength. The tsundere girl she had once been hidden between the cracks of the self-possessed mercenary she'd become.

Oboro hadn't known her long, but she was sure the girl she'd been during those previous wars was proud of who she'd become now.

"What?" Selena asked as Oboro continued to kneel next to the desk.

"… I'm going to win, you know?" She grinned at her as she stood to her full height.

"Like hells you are." Selena pushed passed her, rushing to get to the arena first. "Last one there has to confess a secret to their liege!"

"No fair! You got a head start!" Oboro called, rushing after her in giggles.

Perhaps the competitive youth wasn't buried as deep as she thought she was…

* * *

 _AN:_

 _Just a reminder that, while this story can end here at the A-Support, there will still be an S-Support to come next week that rounds the story off completely. You don't have to read it if you're not comfortable with reading that kind of thing, but I do recommend checking it out if you're on the fence._

 _Anyway, thanks for reading, see you next week!_

 _~WWQ_


	4. S-Support

_The Seamstress and The Tsundere_

 _S-Support_

Several weeks had passed since Selena had officially acknowledged that she and Oboro were friends over her new old mercenary uniform, yet she was still trying to hide the outfit from the rest of the army.

It was rather general knowledge now that the opposing retainers were friends – they went into town together a lot and were often seen sparing in the Arena, not to mention the fact that Oboro no longer sneered at her name – yet the reason for their solidified friendship was still being hidden. The Hoshidan was polite enough not to ask why Selena would come to spar with the outfit hidden by a heavy cloak, but her raised eyebrow cut her more than any lance could.

In theory, she didn't care who saw her in the garment: it flattered her greatly and she really wanted to show it off and showcase her friend's skills – Princess Camilla had seen her in it once or twice and complimented her for it (not that Camilla complimenting people was a surprise). In practise, there were two people she desperately didn't want to see her in it, seeing her cling to her past in such an obvious way.

They'd ask her so many questions – who made the outfit and how much had she told them? If she was telling people about their past, could they too? How much does the person who made it mean to her that she'd wear it so often? ...That last question she was making a point of not looking to closely at herself.

In truth, she could answer any question they had for her logically and with her trademarked attitude, but it was that last theoretical question that made her hesitate long enough to put a cloak on. The more she thought about it, the more the was forced to admit that Oboro meant more and more to her with each passing spar, each incidental grin and chuckle that the girl was so prone to making when they were together. And each time she closed in on why she felt so strongly for the lancer, she'd run her fingers along the name engraved on her sword and remember those she left behind.

Sure, the sword's namesake was still close by, but what about the other one? The person who'd made her realise she was an ab girl? Or rather that she was into _girls_ with abs?

That's what Selena reminded herself as she tied her hair up before another sparing session with Oboro; how much it will hurt when she leaves her behind to go back to Ylisse, and how much _more_ it would hurt to leave her behind if she acknowledged the emotions she was feeling for the girl.

Besides, she was ab girl. She'd seen Oboro in the hot springs once or twice now and could attest to the fact that lancer's abs weren't anything to shout about. There was no reason for her to be physically attracted to her – intellectual attraction was another matter – after all, both of her former crushes had (what was Princess Elise referred to as) abs for _days_ , whereas Oboro was lucky if she had abs for minutes.

Her legs though…

"Gawds!" Selena shouted at herself as she stood up, straightening her bunches out before resting her hand against the engraved Ylissean sword at her belt. She was thinking herself into a spiral again.

She did _not_ have feelings for Oboro anymore than she still had feelings for Odin. They were both simply outstanding examples of friends, nothing more.

In fact, she was so sure that Odin was an example of a good friend that she left her quarters in her new old mercenary outfit without a cloak. She was so sure of their friendship that she wasn't worried what he'd ask her when he saw her in it.

… Of course, that was a lie. She was so sure she could leave her quarters without a cloak to hide her outfit because she knew that both Odin and Laslow had been scheduled to work in the kitchen that day and would therefore not be about to see her. Unfortunately, she hadn't taken into consideration _when_ they'd be in the kitchen.

It was a little after noon when Selena left her quarters, meaning that many people were still eating in the dining hall or simply going about their own business in the realm or the nearest town. She assumed that both her old friends would still be preparing food in the kitchen at this time, or at the very least eating and out of her way. Apparently, that was a very wrong assumption and – in actuality – the two were scheduled to prepare dinner that night and were just leaving their quarters to grab supplies from town.

"Selena!" Odin called her name almost as soon as she'd closed her door, making her flinch visibly as she considered running back in to grab her cloak. If she hurried, there was the chance that the slightly less observant Odin hadn't paid attention to her clothes and she could still hide behind her cloak…

"What in Nohr are you wearing?" Laslow asked from just beside Odin, watching her curiously as she fiddled uselessly with the handle of her door. It was too late to hide now.

Instead, the red head made the snap decision to hold her head high and wear her clothes with pride – mostly because there was no reason for her to hide it anymore and doing so would've only made her more suspicious looking. Cocking her head to the side, she turned to face them, crossed her arms and snapped, "What?"

Laslow's eyes bugged out slightly as Odin gasped, "Selena… Where did you get that?"

"Oboro made it for me, not that it's any of _your_ business."

"What do you mean it's none of _our_ business?" Odin exclaimed in a fit of uncharacteristic anger. "Selena, you wearing that… it could unravel everything we've created here!"

"So what?" Selena still stood defiantly, attitude turning more and more sour. "The war's nearly over anyway and no one pays attention to fashion in this stupid army."

"Odin has a point though, Se _lena_ ," Laslow interrupted calmly, emphasising the second part of her name. "Sure, the war's ending and we'll probably be back home before we know it but there's no point in destroying everything we've created here and burning our ties with the Nohrian royals: what if we need these disguises again later?"

"Yeah, well," she stammered. There was very little point arguing with either of them when they were making such pertinent points. "It's not like Oboro would tell anyone…"

"How can you be so sure, Selena, huh?" Odin snapped at her, making her feel even worse; an angry Odin was a rare sight. "After all your emphasis on keeping our identities a secret and never mentioning our past, you just go and tell someone on the other side of the army because you want a new outfit? Shame on you!"

"What! Like you've never told people about our past with your stupid stories all the time!" She snapped in return, not enjoying the justified accusations. She covered half her face with one hand and held the other out far in front of her, her voice booming as she shouted, "It was I, Odin DARK, who took down the Fell dragon and their horde of Risen!"

"I've _never_ said that!" Odin shouted back her. "Don't take Odin Dark's name in vain!"

"Or what? You'll cast a spell on me with the mysterious _book_ Missiletainn?"

"That's enough!" Laslow shut them both up, standing between them in anger and frustration; he wasn't a fan of being the voice of reason. "Odin, give her a break. We all miss home and we deal with that in different ways – you tell your stories and Selena has her clothes. However, that doesn't mean we should be telling anyone about home, no matter what."

"It was only one person, who's she going to tell?" Selena muttered defensively.

"Her liege? Lord Takumi? Remember him?" Odin said sarcastically, though his voice was also subdued.

"It's not so much who she'd tell as it is how she'll react when we leave," said Laslow simply, turning to face Selena with more understanding in his eyes than she cared to acknowledge. "You remember how hard it was for us to leave everyone at home behind? Think about how hard it's going to be to say goodbye to Lady Camilla, Beruka and now Oboro as well. Think about how they'll react to never seeing you again."

Selena's shoulders slumped as the dancer continued to remind her of all the pain that would be coming their way as soon as the war ended. It wasn't like him to be so harsh, and certainly unlike him to be so astute with matters of the heart.

He gently rested a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look him in the eye as he whispered, "You're being selfish, Severa. Having Oboro make this for you… It's only going to make leaving so much harder."

After a moment of tense silence between the three old friends, Laslow patted Selena on the shoulder and straightened up, a smile once again on his face. "Well, that's enough of that. Fancy joining us in town, Selena darling? Once we've picked up supplies for dinner, I can show you a lovely tea parlour I know of…"

Instead of replying, Selena simply turned on her heel and rushed off to the Arena, muttering something under her breath that sounded a great deal like 'go duck a shelf'.

* * *

Since she'd spent all that time arguing with her boys, Selena arrived rather late to her sparring session with Oboro. As a result, they wouldn't have as long to spar as usual since Effie was due to use the Arena after them and no one wanted to get in the way of Effie and her workouts. It also meant that, having gotten bored of standing around and waiting, Oboro was sat on the floor writing on a loose leaf of her notebook when Selena finally came in, utterly focused on whatever she was designing.

From where she stood in the open doorway, Selena could only make out the outline of a rather elaborate looking dress and an incredibly long list of materials and supplies. Sure, she was curious, but she was also agitated and desperate to fight, so she pulled her sword from its sheath much more loudly than usual to catch the girl's attention.

"Selena!" The lancer looked up at her with vague embarrassment as she quickly closed her notebook, pushing it to the side with a smile. "Took your time, didn't you?"

"Sorry, I got held up." She apologised lamely as she watched Oboro stand and pick up her lance.

"Well, I'm glad to see you here now," said she as she got into her fighting stance opposite the other girl, her cheeks still slightly flushed in embarrassment. "Shall we?"

That was another one of the things Selena liked about Oboro – she rarely asked questions. As a retainer herself, she knew that there were diplomatic things that they couldn't exactly discuss, but more than that, she knew that Selena kept many secrets from her, especially about her past. It had only taken a week for her to get the idea that Selena wouldn't answer her questions and she'd since stopped asking; if she wanted her to know something, she'd tell her, otherwise it was best not to probe.

"Absolutely." Selena too stood in her fighting stance.

The first couple of times they'd sparred with Selena in this outfit, they'd been worried that she'd split the seams or that the fabric wouldn't be quite as mobile as they thought it would. Now, they were certain it could take a beating and Selena moved in it freely, relishing in the feeling of wearing such a familiar article of clothing. Obviously, she still wore her Nohrian boots and shield (that couldn't be helped) but the fact that Nohrian boots were made of leather rather than metal like Ylissean ones allowed for even more mobility and fluidity in her movements – making her change up some of her moves to accommodate.

It hadn't taken all that long for Oboro to understand how Selena fought, despite how foreign and strange her movements had originally seemed. There were undeniably elements of Nohrian fighting styles overlaid over her home world's, but they were all a cover up for something far more desperate and deadly. Many times, these true moves were simply a way to play with the enemy, to make them lose confidence and look somewhere else before Selena actually struck. It was one big dance, a desperate and playful one, but an incredibly deadly one all the same.

After figuring out her patterns and how exactly she fought, Oboro had started to fight back with her lance techniques. To her, it seemed that her techniques were quashed under Selena's innate ability, the range of her naginata not having the same effect against sword users that it normally did. In reality, Selena was having to work harder and harder to keep her winning streak.

She'd not seen anyone this proficient in lances since… well, her Mother. It took years of study and practise before Selena could even hold her own against the Pegasus Knight, let alone beat her. Nowadays, she wasn't quite as competitive, but that didn't mean she was going down without a fair fight; she sure as hell wasn't going to let some Hoshidan lancer beat her after just a few sessions.

So, as Oboro desperately struggled to gain the upper hand, Selena struggled just as desperately to keep it.

They were smiling as they fought, grins intermixed with sweat and huffing laughs; a cockily raised eyebrow here and an unnecessarily elaborate spinning parry there. It was a dance of blades, as much a battle of wits as it was of endurance.

In the end, as always happened, Oboro's endurance gave out first. Three wars and constant training had put Selena in almost peak condition and her stamina was almost the best of the army; meanwhile, Oboro had been a seamstress before she joined Lord Takumi as his retainer, she didn't have half the amount of training the other girl had and – until just recently – hadn't needed to fight for her life as much.

Panting and just barely parring, Oboro tried her best to fight back against the tireless mercenary. Finally, she raised her naginata in surrender and took a knee, breathing heavily through her smile as she once again admitted defeat.

"I yield." Panted she as Selena stood over her, also panting but to a much lesser degree. _That's a small victory,_ she thought; she'd never seen Selena pant after their training before.

"Of course," Selena teasingly rested her sword under Oboro's chin, forcing her to look up at her. "Like I would lose!"

Oboro breathed out a giggle, moving to stand up again as Selena's sword caught the light in just the right way, revealing the engraving near the hilt. They usually sparred with their actual weapons rather than practise ones – it made them more cautious and all the more determined to succeed if they were actually hit – at Selena's request, so Oboro had seen this foreign sword many times and knew it was engraved but she'd never managed to get a good look at what the engraving said. Now she could see the name in all its glory, causing a sharp envious pang in her chest.

"Who's Owain?" She asked as she pushed herself up from the floor, pointing at Selena's sword as she did.

Panic crashed over Selena like a wave. It was one thing for Oboro to know that she was from another world; it was something far more serious entirely for her to know any of their true names.

"Uh," she stammered as she looked down at her sword, desperately trying to think of a way to tell her that wouldn't reveal who Owain was and coming up short. "He's… The name of my sword."

"You named your sword?" The lancer asked in surprise as she drank from the canteen before offering it to her friend.

"… It was a long time ago." She muttered evasively as she too drank from the canteen.

Oboro nodded to herself, looking at the mercenary carefully. She knew how pressing Selena for answers usually went, but her jealously was getting the better of her. "Why did you name it Owain?"

"Does it matter?" Selena snapped, the edge in her voice as sharp as the blade was.

"I was just curious…" Oboro moved over to the wall where she'd left her notebook, seemingly having dropped the conversation as she looked her naginata over for nicks.

Selena looked between the girl and her sword before sighing and sheathing it. There was no reason for her to tell her this but… "Owain was my first crush, I guess, back home."

"I see." Oboro said dismissively, jealousy getting the better of her as she put together who Owain was now and how the two of them still acted together.

"It was a long time ago," Selena felt the need to elaborate. "I don't still… I mean, he's now… Just drop it, okay?! And _don't_ tell anyone!"

"Selena, calm down." Oboro smiled up at her as best she could, which was actually rather convincingly. "I was just teasing you. I won't tell anyone."

"Good." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. It was stupid of her to feel the need to justify herself to Oboro, but she didn't want her to feel bad, to be jealous of a stupid crush. But her being jealous would mean that she saw her as more than a friend, which would mean that, for Selena to not want her to be jealous, she also felt more for her than-

"What were you drawing earlier?" Selena suddenly said, picking up Oboro's notebook from the floor to distract her from her spiralling thoughts.

"Oh! Selena, don't-!" The lancer shouted just as suddenly as the mercenary had picked the book up, dropping her naginata in the process of snatching the book back and making sure that Selena didn't see her new design.

She was just a little too late as Selena held the book just out of her reach. "Oboro, this is… gorgeous."

It was a gown not unlike the ones Selena had seen women wearing back home – a sleeveless bust with a corseted waist and a well rounded skirt that appeared to be designed to hold its shape without need of an heavy underskirt. There was a large sash sewn into the waist that was tied in a bow at the back and arranged to look like wings in the front. From the annotations by the side, it appeared to be made of a variety of silks and satins in varying shades of whites and pale blues and would have a pair of fingerless gloves to accompany it.

The more Selena looked at it, the more it reminded her of a wedding gown – one not to dissimilar to those back in Ylisse at that.

"Yes, well…" Oboro finally snatched her notebook back as Selena stood in awe of her design. "It's only a design at the moment, I'm not even sure if I'll make it…"

"You have to!" The mercenary exclaimed, suddenly fired up. She wanted to see her friend make something magnificent one more time before the war was over and she had to leave.

"I don't know, Selena…" She mumbled as she looked the design over. "It might be outside my capabilities…"

"I'll help!" Oboro blinked in surprise. "I want to learn all I can about dress making from you before I leave and, well, what better way to do that than with one final challenge?"

Selena surprised even herself with that statement, true though it was. She did want to learn the art of dress making and what better person to learn from than her friend?

"Alright, I guess," Oboro muttered, a small smile coming to her features as she thought about making this dress with the one she wanted to gift it to. "If you insist…"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get the materials!"

Selena rushed out of the arena before Oboro could stop her, more eager than she'd ever seen her. It was sweet, in a way, though also concerning. Her motivation behind making this dress was that it would be a proposal gift to her, but if she wasn't at least bi, this would all be for naught…

"Selena! Wait!" Grabbing her naginata, Oboro rushed after her, leaving her doubts and fears behind in the arena's training room.

* * *

A few weeks later, the two of them were sat in Oboro's light room together, admiring the dress on her mannequin.

It had taken a lot of work and hours to get to this point, but in Selena's eyes it looked ready and even more beautiful than the design. Though exactly the same as what those pages of designs had depicted, there was something magnificent about seeing it in the flesh. Mostly sewn from a white silk, the corset was a tough cream fabric not too dissimilar to the black fabric of her new old mercenary outfit, and the over skirt was a pale blue mesh over the top of a white satin underskirt. The sash around the waist was a pearl coloured silk looking so close to actual wings that Selena was surprised it wasn't sewn of actual swan feathers.

"Wow…" She breathed, admiring their (mostly Oboro's) work. "It's more stunning than I could've possibly imagined…"

"It _is_ impressive…" Oboro muttered self-consciously, still worried that Selena wouldn't accept it if she knew what it actually was.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on already!"

"Actually…" Oboro gingerly approached the subject, her cheeks flaming. "I was wondering if you would wear it?"

"Really?" Selena asked in surprise. Surely she wouldn't have made so lovely a dress for someone other than herself? "If you insist…"

The two removed it from the mannequin carefully before Selena stripped down to her chemise with far less embarrassment than Oboro would've had if she'd done it. With the seamstress' help, Selena pulled it on over her head and set to work fixing it carefully on her curves.

Only, she didn't need to; it fit more perfectly than anything she'd ever worn, even her new old mercenary uniform. Not only that, but it managed to highlight her curves and narrow waist in such a way that Selena herself was sure she'd never looked hotter.

"Does it fit okay?" Oboro asked, looking the other girl up and down with a persistent blush, knowing it fit perfectly yet looked even better on her than she could've possibly hoped.

"Like a dream." Selena muttered as she wiggled it gently on her hips to set it straighter.

"Do you mind if I still check?" Oboro asked, holding her hands out tentatively as Selena nodded in agreement.

Slowly and meticulously, Oboro began to gently probe around the mercenary's waist, making sure the sash fit just right as she gently felt around. Selena was blushing by the time she was checking the corset ties, gently feeling the small of her back as she made sure it wasn't too tight. As the Hoshidan's nimble fingers continued to check and gently probe, Selena's blush grew ever brighter, feelings awakening in her that she'd tried desperately to keep bottled up these last few weeks.

"You know, Selena, I have a confession to make," Oboro admitted as she straightened the bow on the back up. "I wasn't making this dress for myself, I was making it for you."

"Explains why it fits so well." Selena said simply over her shoulder as the other girl checked the skirt at the back.

"It was meant to be a going away present of sorts, something to remember me by back in your home realm..." Oboro continued as though Selena hadn't said anything.

"Oboro, you shouldn't-" Selena started, only to be cut off by the other girl's sudden laughter. "Oboro?"

She came to stand before Selena again, her head slightly bowed though her blush all too clear. "I'm sorry, it's just… I can't lie anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"May I?" Oboro gestured to Selena's torso, indicating that she'd like to check the sizing around her chest and stomach. The mercenary nodded, trying not to blush herself.

"I mean," Oboro continued as she professionally felt around Selena's chest and stomach, "that I wasn't going to give you this as a going away present initially…"

Slowly, Oboro looked up at the other girl, far closer to her than Selena had thought, with her hands resting on the mercenary's hips. "I was going to give it to you as a wedding gift – well, proposal gift really."

"Oboro, what are you-?"

"I'm not doing that anymore, don't worry, I know you're not gay, you like Odin- sorry, _Owain_."

"Oboro, that's not-" Selena got cut off interrupting again.

"But I felt it important for you to know that I have feeling for you - love you, really - before all this is over."

"Oboro-"

"If you don't want to see me again, I understand." Oboro looked down, her hands still gently on Selena's hips. "But I had to tell you the truth regardless-"

"Oboro!" Selena shouted at her, making her jump in surprise and look up at her blushing but smiling face.

"Selena?"

"Shut up a moment, would ya?" She smiled as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind Oboro's ear, making her freeze up and blush simultaneously.

With her hand already cupping the side of her face, Selena pulled it closer to her own, closing her eyes at the last possible instance as she kissed her friend. A little surprisingly, Oboro wasn't too shocked to react, she was kissing her back in less than a heartbeat, pulling her closer by the hips as she tried to take as much of her in as she could before Selena realised.

Not that she cared when she did realise, gripping Oboro's waist with her free hand as they continued to kiss, headless of the large dress skirt providing resistance.

Finally, Selena drew away, her hand still resting on Oboro's cheek. "A proposal, huh?"

"A little impulsive, perhaps-" Oboro started with a little chuckle, her hands still on Selena's hips, lips begging for more.

"Would you be opposed to having the wedding somewhere other than Hoshido? Say, my home realm of Ylisse, for example?"

Oboro hesitated for a moment, so many thoughts running though her head, not just those of where Ylisse could possibly be. Was Selena saying yes? "It'd be hard to leave my home and Lord Takumi, but yes, I'd follow you wherever you go."

"And would you be opposed to marrying me if my name was actually… Severa?" Selena asked carefully, wondering if that might be the thing that pushed her over the edge as she bit her lip.

Oboro smiled at finally knowing the other girl's true name. "I'd marry you wherever and under whatever name you would like, Severa."

"Very well." Selena responded, pulling Oboro closer to resume what she'd interrupted earlier.

"Wait." Oboro muttered, resting a hand against Selena's breast incidentally as she pushed her slightly back. She smiled up at her. "Is that a yes?"

With a chuckle, Selena replied, "Yes, you dolt! Now, shut up and kiss me!"

Smiling with more pure joy than she ever thought she'd feel, Oboro complied, practically jumping on her with her ferocity and desire.

And so they spent several hours, kissing and showering each other in compliments, never once thinking about the difficulties that would come in the future. They thought only of the now, and how they'd not felt so happy nor so at peace for so long.

* * *

 _AN:_

 _Thank you so much for reading this story, I really hope you've enjoyed this! I'm so happy it's been so well received!_

 _If you're interested in Octopath Traveler, you might want to check out some of my other recent stories and keep an eye open for Travel On when that starts tomorrow!_

 _Anyway, thank you so much for reading and enjoying this!_

 _~WWQ_


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